In Memoriam Edward Cullen
by teabizarre
Summary: AU New Moon. Companion fic to 'In Memoriam Bella Swan'. The Cullens don't leave Forks after the break-up.


In Memoriam Edward Cullen

_AU New Moon. **In Memoriam Bella Swan **from Edward's POV. The Cullens don't leave Forks after the break-up. _

1.

It had been weeks of nothing, but there was still the initial shock when I heard her. All I had was her voice, and she spoke so infrequently—a word here, a sigh. I timed my misery to these omens and used them as my restraints: just hold it together until she speaks again. Just until then.

And then she would. An answer to a determined teacher's question, a 'please' or a 'thank you'. I'd hear her low voice and it would trigger a race of feelings: relief and gratitude, but then fear and dread for the emotion that always followed: desire. I yearned for her as the day yearned for the sun. It wasn't need, it was just balance—something that couldn't exist without something else, the atmosphere and oxygen, the moon and the tides.

I fought the feeling but I never won, I just kept making treaties with myself. _If you hold out now—if you stay in your seat, if you don't rush to her and hold her and kiss her and beg her to forgive you, if you don't crush her to you and never let go, then you can look at her, you can say goodnight to her, you can follow the thoughts of those around her for one period._ The bargains I made were quite ridiculous, but this wretched cheating was all I could do to keep sane.

Although lately I'd begun to doubt the value of even that.

It was lunchtime. She had stopped eating lunch in the cafeteria after what had happened with Jessica and Lauren. My fists clenched at the thought of them, and my heart—now she was always outside in the rain, like she was waiting for something. But what? For me?

No, no. I didn't dare hope as much. I wasn't allowed to even entertain fantasies to the effect-

"Why are you doing this, Edward?" Alice asked. It was a rhetorical question—she repeated it every time my decision wavered, and every time I managed to stop myself, but only just, by my very fingertips—and a slippery compromise.

"Going to see her again tonight?" Alice asked, arching an eyebrow before she snorted and turned away from me, disgusted. _This is so stupid. Doesn't he see-?_

All the evidence against my decision was stacked neatly in her mind, like I could tick it off on a list. _She's miserable—check. You're miserable—check. She wants you, she wants _this_—check. You can't live without her—check._

"It's not that simple, Alice."

"Isn't it?" Again it was a rhetorical question; she could see she would get no answer, because there was no answer, and because I couldn't speak. It was a difficult task to accomplish when so much was missing from you; for a moment I could feel the parts splinter away from the great emptiness that was my core.

_Just until she talks again. Hold on until she talks again. _

Lunch dragged on.

* * *

If lunch was torture, the time between classes was doubly so. I was never sure that she'd make it to her next class. She sometimes disappeared between periods, like the other students snatched her away and hid her amongst themselves, unwilling to let me catch a glimpse of her. I had this fear that she was with Mike, somewhere...I'd search the school until I found his thoughts, and sometimes I found her, too—wandering to her truck, the secretary feeling too bad to call her back, or trailing into her lesson late, the teacher wondering whether scolding her would do any good.

The classes we had together were a reprieve in that sense—for a few minutes, too long, too short, I knew where she was, I knew that she was safe—I knew that no matter what happened, I could protect her. But it was also a reprimand, no, stronger than that, worse than that. It was a showcase of all I had done wrong, of my selfishness and my mistakes.

The relief and the self-loathing didn't quite form a balance, which made me feel even more ashamed of myself. I shouldn't enjoy seeing her like that, fragile and frighteningly vacant. But it was much, much less worse than not seeing her at all; and it was also much, much worse, seeing her _at all_ and knowing, _You did that._

I did _that_—her sitting hunched over her Biology handbook, defensive and alone. She'd lost weight and she was paler than before. She looked drawn and tired and _I did that_. I couldn't stand to look at her because I saw the worst of myself; I couldn't stand not to look at her for fear of losing the best of myself.

She moved suddenly, reaching for her pen (her wrist looked so threadbare) and quickly scribbled something down, like she had to remember it—but something about the way she carved out the word made me think that it wasn't a note, that it was something more.

_Christopher?_ Alice thought. She could read it from where she sat. She scanned quickly through her vision, wondering about the name and the person. She hadn't seen anyone new. Could she have missed something...?

I dropped my pen before I broke it; it only just slid from my fingers before they clenched together in a vice-grip.

"Christopher?" I hissed.

Alice watched my reaction from the corners of her eyes, a little smug—this was further evidence to her: _jealousy—check_. She shrugged and muttered to her textbook, "There are two Christophers in this school, a Freshman and a junior, but she hasn't had any contact with them... At least, I don't _think_ so."

I knew them, of course, not because I wanted to, only because of this wretched 'gift'. I sought them out. It took a few moments before I singled them out in their respective classes. I listened intently, but their thoughts were banal, bored, unconnected. Bella wasn't in them. So surely that meant...?

But no, I could only hear what they were _currently_ thinking. I didn't have access to their _memories_. Who knew what hid there?

Almost as if in reaction to that, Bella suddenly scrubbed out the word she'd written, concealing it beneath a sticky layer of ink. As if impressed with this obliteration, she wiped over it once. Something caught her eye—she lifted her left hand to inspect the smear of black.

The internal collapse was almost audible. She became very still. Her breath hitched. The little blood in her face drained away. She stared at her hand for several seconds before dropping it—only, it wasn't like she decided to put it away, but like some unseen puppet master dropped the strings.

My groan was very quiet.

"You see?" Alice said. But there was no smugness or victory, just misery.

* * *

Gym had already started when Alice and I arrived, Alice leading. I hardly dared look away from her back or up from the floor for fear of meeting _her_ eyes. If they had been angry or accusing, or even sad and desperate, if only there had been _anything_ in them, any light whatsoever—I could have dealt with that; I would have relished it. But there never was. Bella stared, her eyes vacant and her face bloodless and _I did that_.

Coach Clapp only gave us a glance and we separated to our respective changing rooms. I dressed quickly, but then regretted it: I had to wait a few minutes before I reappeared, so as not to rouse suspicion, and with that much vacant time ahead of me I couldn't help it; I was like an addict, grappling for the faintest of hits, the thinnest of pleasures...

They were playing. Bella was in the far-most corner, little more than a wraith, her hair tied back into a careless ponytail. Strands of it had escaped the band, however, and flowered around her face—but they only served to highlight the perpetual stillness of her mouth and her tired, drawn eyes. Her skin was paler than ever; as pale, almost, as mine.

She was like a ghost, drifting among the other students—it looked like so little held her there, like it would cost nothing for her to finally disappear at any moment, to drift away forever, drift far beyond my reach.

The pain—a constant, now, always at the edge of my stomach and my throat and my heart, flared substantially, and I cradled my knees against my chest and tried to get a grip on myself.

_I did that._

Yes. And I chose _this_.

How many other little treaties I had made with myself—how many other compromises, to keep her with me, safe and alive, but this was the one I couldn't budge on, though my entire being ached for it, ached to have her with me always—ached to hold her and never have to let her go. But at the cost of that which I held most dear—her very essence?

No, no, I couldn't do that. I couldn't take _that_. Because what right did I have to a thing so beautiful, so pure? How could I pollute it with what I was—unnatural, undying, a beast, a monster? If I loved her truly—loved her with all the best of myself—how could I even consider stealing her away, now, even, and holding her to me—how could I consider sinking my teeth into her soft, silky skin, and take as much of her as I could bear—and replace it with as much of me as I could, to tie her to me, to have a tangible hold on her? The desire was so strong—it cost me something to stay there, hunched in on myself, every muscle in my body locked down.

_Edward, are you coming?_ Alice thought. She had already joined her team.

I didn't want to—what would be able to stop me, _really_ stop me, from acting on my plan—from taking her into the forest and never looking back? Certainly not Alice, not even if she _hadn't_ wanted the exact same thing. I could take out walls and windows; we could be in another country in a few hours. Alice would help me cover it up—Carlisle and Esme would only be too glad, Jasper would be relieved, Emmett would understand...Rosalie, of course, would be furious—but what was her fury to me?

If I had Bella—unbreakable, eternal—if-

But now I was assuming that that was what she still wanted. It was clear that she was in pain. But what if it wasn't our separation? What if she was grieving, getting over me? Drifting away? How would I ever be able to coax her back if she truly wanted to go? She could be so stubborn!

And maybe...maybe she hadn't ever loved me.

This thought was like a steel trap around my heart.

Maybe she hadn't ever really cared. Perhaps it had been pity—I was all alone in a family of well-matched partners. She was so intuitive, she would have picked up on that even if I never said anything—and she was so kind. What if her love, or what I had hoped, fervently, feverishly, and had almost convinced myself of—had just been kindness? A misplaced sense of duty toward someone who so needed it?

Or perhaps—my thoughts darkened and my hands automatically balled into fists—perhaps it hadn't been noble at all. Perhaps her attachment had been more superficial. Vampires were attractive. It was part of our repertoire—another weapon we didn't need. Our appearance, our scent, our presence, was a dangerous concoction of attraction and fear. A thrill. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps that was the only reason she had wanted to stay with me—to _become_ like me. Perhaps _this life_ was the attraction...

I did not want to believe this of Bella and I struggled with it, trying to pry it away from my mind. And yet it made more sense to me than her wanting to be with me because she truly wanted _me_—all of me, all my endless faults and denials and incompetence. She was so much better than me. Good, to the core. She could _do_ so much better than me.

Fear pounced on my stomach. Had she realized that? Had she moved on?  
But hadn't I _wanted_ her to?

The internal answers weren't quite simultaneous, though I worked hard for them to be.

_No_ led by a fraction of a second: _No_. I didn't want any such thing. How could she want anyone else, when _I_ wanted no one else?

The _yes_ was more practised than it was natural. The _yes_ was the monster I had beaten until he faded almost into nothing. The _yes_ was my yellow eyes. The _yes_ was Carlisle, and the way he made me feel. The _yes_ was what I had wanted to give to Bella—just the _yes_.

I didn't notice Coach Clapp until he cleared his throat uncomfortably and asked, "You okay there, Cullen?"

I worked hard to speak smoothly past the lump in my throat. It wasn't as hard as it had been before—I had had a lot of practice.

"Yes, sir."

Coach Clapp badly wanted to believe this. _Looked like he was about to cry_. But he only said, "Okay, then, son, get out there."

I joined the game seamlessly, Coach Clapp yelling instructions from behind my back as we walked back into the gym. Alice looked at me—a long, inquiring look, as worried as it was frustrated, but then her head snapped away, and mine with it—I saw it as she did, and a second later there was the whistle, long and shrill.

Bella's game stopped. Mike, who had been doing most of their side's gameplay, rushed immediately to her side.

"Bella? Bella, are you okay?"

She was on the gym floor, but she could just as well have been standing or lying down: her facial expression had not changed, except for a faint flush in her cheeks. She pushed herself onto her feet without taking Mike's proffered arm (my insides stabbed with jealousy—he was still hopeful, and I had nothing to refute that hope with—no evidence but sickening desire that she still wanted me, and only me), and was staring down at her arm, dazed; but her gaze lasted only a few seconds before it drifted off back into the distance. She relaxed her arm to her side, apparently oblivious to the fact that it hung more stiffly than usual.

_I swore I heard a crack_ Alice was thinking, evaluating her reaction and the increase of blood to the site of her fall.

Fear filled the pit of my stomach. The only thing in the world that could hurt me, break me, shatter me beyond recognition—and she was so _fragile_. It made me angry—no, _furious_. How dare she be able to break my heart as easily as falling down and hurting herself? Who gave her that power over me?

But I didn't mean it. I _couldn't_ mean it. She was my everything. There had never been any choice. Not from the first day I saw her; not until the last.

_You could just take her._

My previous train of thought, shelved, for a moment, rolled out again, and it plotted out a plan without my participation—though I couldn't deny it permission. The concern had been, What if she didn't want me anymore? Or this?

She was exactly as strong as a hundred-and-ten-pound girl.

Alice wouldn't stop me.

_You could just take her._

Then there would at least be a _chance_ of a forever after—faint, yes, I had to admit that—but a chance. If _she_ was alive forever, and if _I_ was alive forever—even if we were not together—it would be torture, but it would be acceptable. I could live with that, just with knowing that she was out there somewhere, alive and safe and _Bella_. I could live with that.

Excitement prickled at the pit of my stomach and my fingers fluttered in anticipation and venom pooled eagerly in my mouth.

_Bella_. I remembered the way her eyes used to react when she'd looked at me, I remembered her scent. So many needs...and she could satisfy them all...

Coach Clapp was surveying Bella's arm without quite touching it, and he looked worried—he'd seen her pitch and the angle had been awkward. "Bella, I think you should go to the nurse's office, just to be on the safe side. We're done for the day anyway. You got that?" he asked, confused. Her expression was fixed.

A second too much passed before she nodded. "Yes," she said. Her voice was barely audible.

She hesitated a moment longer, though I didn't think it was hesitation—it was like her body was catching up to her brain, and then she walked off, right past Alice and me, without looking either way, without seeing anything. The other students were adjourning to the dressing rooms.

_Do you want to change before going home?_ Alice thought. She felt uneasy—Bella's future flicked in and out of her head, not quite sure, not quite steady. Lately I didn't know who it agitated more, the blurry nature of her gift when it came to humans: me or Alice.

"No."

She nodded and we headed directly for the parking lot, staying behind the wall of jostling students.

_Do you want to-?_ she began, but I already saw the idea in her mind: she wanted to follow Bella for a while, because she hadn't gone to the nurse's office—she'd gone straight to her truck instead. Alice was worried about her arm. She was sure she'd heard a crack.

"No!" I said, too quickly, fear pouncing at me again _(You could just take her.)_

Alice started to ask why, going to the trouble of actually voicing her question, before her eyes flashed vacant and understanding followed a moment later when my resolution wavered, and my despicable plan became clear to her.

"Oh," she said. She frowned, considering what she had seen.

"I know," I said, though her thoughts weren't judgemental. My voice sounded wretched even to me. Rosalie had lately been thinking that I sounded even more whiny than usual—quite a feat, in her opinion. "I'm a monster."

_No_ Alice thought, and I could see that she honestly believed this. _You're just in love, Edward. _

I shook my head automatically.

_Why can't you just admit it?_ But she didn't expect an answer; she just walked ahead, repressing a long sigh and thought about Jasper, and how mortifying it would be to lose him—how she wouldn't ever allow that, not while she had strength in her arms.

_Because_. I wanted to tell her this, but the words got lost somewhere in my throat. _Because that would mean giving in...giving in to the very worst of myself._

* * *

"I don't like this," I said, but I was desperate—panic was suffocating every rational thought and every possible objection. It kept trying to force me to think predatorially. My mind could only equate this much anxiety with attack.

"_Why not?_" Alice demanded, her voice fraying with anger. We didn't usually fight. One part of it had been Jasper's continual, ever-calming presence and the promise of retaliation if I ever said or did something to Alice that he did not appreciate. Another was our friendship: the freaks among freaks. We always stuck together, but I could quickly see a canyon forming between us as our decisions shunted us to different sides.

I tried to keep my voice calm. "I promised her, Alice. I promised we'd leave her alone. I can't—what-" I couldn't find words—I shoved my hands into my hair, trying to bring my scattered thoughts together. I never could think clearly when Bella was in harm's way. I had only two reactions: protect her, and destroy whatever tried to take her away from me.

But now it was me—it was my fault. I hadn't thought that I could loathe myself more than I already did, but the self-hatred tested its limits, berating me with how useless and unworthy I was.

"We can't just leave her like that! What if Charlie doesn't notice? He barely goes near her anymore," Alice added, distracted, her eyes flashing vacant every few seconds, like onyx being tumbled.

"How do you know that?" I asked, my voice sharp, because as soon as she said it she tried to distract herself—tried to keep me from seeing what she had seen.

"Oh, so now you're the only one allowed to go see her?" Her voice was hard. She folded her arms and glared at me. "And you didn't even _notice_," she went on, growing even angrier. "You're so busy running around at night that-"

But she broke off, her face frozen: she could _see_ Carlisle turning off the road, and a minute or so later we could hear his car, the tires humming on the long driveway. We automatically turned our bodies to the door and waited, each crunching on their side of the argument.

My father walked through the door, troubled, though he tried hard to conceal it from me—he didn't want to cause me any pain, which made me feel even more guilty for putting him through so much. He smiled when he saw us, greeting Esme by way of taking her hand, but he noticed immediately that something wasn't right.

"Did something happen?" he asked. He sounded prepared.

Upstairs in her bedroom, grooming, Rosalie snorted, disgusted. The only reason she hadn't given in to the temptation of siding against me with Alice was because the fight was about Bella.

"Tell him," Esme urged quietly. She hated to see her family distressed. Her fingers tightened around Carlisle's.

"It's Bella," Alice said, without looking at me. "She fell in gym today. I think she's hurt, but she didn't go to the school nurse, and as far as I can tell-" here she glanced at me, but reproachfully, because I had been holding out that Bella could have gone to the emergency room and slipped past Alice's vision, "-she hasn't gone to see a doctor. I definitely heard a crack," she added decisively.

Carlisle's forehead furrowed. "If it was a break," he began, but Alice interrupted—she'd seen his response, how he would explain that Bella, no matter what state she was in, would be unlikely to be able to ignore something as serious as a break—and was ready with her own. Her voice was urgent.

"It could be a fracture."

Carlisle looked at Esme. She was anxious. _She hasn't been right since they broke up_ she thought, looking at me. _And neither has Edward. How long will this go on for? It's torture._

"I could go see her," Carlisle suggested, waiting for our reaction.

"I promised we'd leave her alone, Carlisle." My voice came out in hard, shattered pieces.

"This is different!" Alice fired. "She could be hurt! Doesn't that bother you at all?"

Alice's accusation hit somewhere deep inside—it was like hooks pulling me open, inch by sordid inch. I understood why she thought that, but couldn't she understand? I'd promised Bella, and I'd sworn to myself. If I broke this promise, what was to stop me from breaking any other? I was barely holding on as it was!

_But she's hurt._ The panic assaulted me again. _She's hurt. Bella is hurt._

Icicles scraped and picked at every inch of me. _Bella is hurt. Hurt. My fault. Bella is hurt..._

I tried to answer, but I couldn't get my mouth to work—my lips were frozen, my throat closed, my eyes burning with tears I couldn't give her. _I can't even cry for her!_

"Son," Carlisle said, putting his hand on my shoulder and forcing me to look at him. "I know that the promise you made is important to you, but we can't just ignore this. We all know how it is." Alice had described, in vivid, despicable detail, Bella's regression. "I'll go see Charlie at the station. If she hasn't already been to see someone, he'll make sure she does."

His eyes, as dark as any of ours, were only concerned. There was no judgement or anger or reproach.

I could only nod. Everything else was beyond me. There was safety in stillness—I didn't want to break down in front of them. They had seen enough. They didn't deserve to see more.

Alice nodded once, to herself, satisfied—now that the decision had been made, she could discern that Charlie's response was likely to be favourable.

"You're working an extra shift?" she asked Carlisle, her vision broadening as Carlisle got ready to leave again. Her brow was knitted, but she was thinking, _Good. Carlisle needs to get a good look at her. Maybe then_—and she looked at me, her eyes thorny—_he could talk some sense into Edward. This has gone way beyond ridiculous. It's getting _dangerous_._

Alice's mood abruptly changed from chagrin to uneasiness. Distracted, she worked over the vase of lilies on a side-table, making minute changes and plucking out any flower that left her dissatisfied.

"Yes, I think I should. Dr Green mentioned..."

But I couldn't follow the brief conversation that Carlisle had with Esme, or Emmett's contribution when he came downstairs, having sat through a parade of Rosalie's new clothes: Alice was remembering, and I was transfixed, though I knew it would be the end of me.

She was remembering that one time, when she had seen—when Bella had so nearly—but it was impossible to articulate it into any kind of wholeness. It had been so close. The bathroom had been so bright, and Bella's expression so tranquil.

"You don't think..." It was a question but it sounded like I was being strangled—and I recognized it as such because I had strangled others many times. Their pleas had always been the same; as had my response.

_Maybe this is punishment._

Like my wretched existence wasn't enough...perhaps I had earned this additional torture. _Monster is as monster does..._

Alice sighed, still pestering the flowers into perfection. "I'm not sure," she said, but her internal voice continued. _What happened today worries me Edward. She doesn't care. It's like she's not _there_. Do you see that? It's like she's not in her eyes. _

Alice's mouth turned down at the corners, and she gave up on the flowers. She wrapped herself into a ball on the sofa, running through the future, trying to see as much as possible. It was difficult for her: at times Bella's future was like wrestling with mist. Her absent-mindedness meant that any decision she made was sudden and unpredictable. Alice did not like unpredictable.

"Don't think what?" Emmett asked impatiently, when neither of us explained.

Alice looked at me, but I was half-way out a window with my back to them.

"Do you remember a month ago, when we were worried that Bella was thinking about-"

I didn't stay to hear the rest. I plunged into the deep jade of the forest like it was my salvation. It no longer bothered me that my presence stilled the rustle of insects and animals—and the thrill of speed, of running, had long since dissipated. These days I ran simply to escape—without Bella, all pleasure was beyond me.

I made it as far as the run-down stone cottage near the edge of our territory. My shoulders would no longer support me—my heart could bear no more.

The sobs—pointless, tearless, excruciatingly painful—wrenched me to the forest floor. I curled up and wished I could but be extinguished. How easy it would have been for Bella to commit suicide—one blade, a few cuts, a few minutes, and it was all over (the pain at this memory made me drag in lungfuls of air, like I was drowning, suffocating in my own existence). I almost resented her for the ease of it. The simplicity. I had no such option. I had no such way out...

The Volturi. I remembered my original plan, when James—but I couldn't think of him—the anger already was so barely under control, and _I did that _and_ I could just take her._

No, no, no. Mutely I shook my head, tried to control myself, but it was like cupping running water in your hands. _I can't do that, not to her, not even if it would save my life. _

And I knew what it would feel like to die. It had been so close. The decision had so nearly been made...

It had looked like she was suspended in light—one of the first bright days in Forks in months. How ironic that the light should set her free. We'd been watching...Alice had almost been _waiting_, expecting it, so firm was her belief that neither Bella nor I would be able to handle the separation: one of us, sooner or later, would crack. She'd hoped for it and she'd feared for it. That day, she'd been staking out fashion trends when her hands suddenly froze on the glossy magazine.

The light was everywhere. Bella's skin glowed, all the little hairs on her arms and neck picking up the radiance and feathering it our around her, like a halo. Her hair glimmered with red, and her eyes again had depth to them—_life_. Her mouth was serene and her arms steady.

The only thing out of place was the razor blade. She held it delicately, like it was a piece of paper, between her fore and middle fingers. Its edges were still sharp, though rust and neglect stained most of it. The way she looked at it! It was like a revelation.

But then the image had wavered, and Alice's hands relaxed to her thighs, anxiety splitting her torso over the magazine.

The gush of air she let out had been the only sound for a long moment. Finally she looked at me. I'd been at my piano, but I hadn't bothered to even open it—I wouldn't play—couldn't play—ever again.

In the beginning, I had reserved the pain only for myself. Bella would get over it, I thought—she was human.

"You don't understand, do you?" Alice had asked me. She'd looked so shattered.

But now I understood.

Now I understood perfectly.

* * *

I did not go running that night.

I sobbed until I was a shell and went home. Alice and Esme were waiting. There was a glimmer of hope in Alice's eyes when she met me just outside the berth of light spilling from the big windows; it took me a second to recognize it as happiness. None of us had been happy lately—not even Rosalie, though she never really was.

"Jasper will be here tomorrow," Alice said. She stood on her tiptoes and squeezed my arm. "Carlisle won't be long—they aren't going to make him work a full shift, though he'd be happy to. They don't want to overwork him," she mused. This was purely for my benefit, to distract me from the hands on the clock by the fireplace. My eyes went there automatically when we walked in. "They're too afraid they lose him."

I nodded and everyone was silent. I sat by my piano, mostly because it afforded me a semblance of seclusion.

"Charlie has just taken Bella," Alice noted, several minutes later, and the room lapsed into silence again. Even Rosalie, perched on the edge of the big white sofa, was quiet. She was beginning to wonder. She hadn't thought, after seeing me with Bella, that I would ever last this long—or that Bella would. But now...perhaps Bella had realized what she truly had. Perhaps Bella had realized that she could have so much more than _this-_and Rosalie stared at her hands, cold, hard, white and perfect, where they rested on her lap. _There is so much more than this!_ she thought, angry and jealous.

I felt sick. I had to turn my head away. Yet something else I would deprive Bella of, if I gave in.

_If?_ Snidely. _When, Edward. _When_ you give in._

"They've gone home," Alice said calmly, about an hour later. I'd stopped looking at the clock—it only seemed to make the time go by more slowly. "It looks like it was just a hairline fracture. Carlisle has just left, too; he will be here in seven minutes."

Esme raised her eyebrows at this last.

"He's turned off his headlights," Alice explained, and glanced in my direction. _Carlisle doesn't usually drive recklessly_, she thought. _He must have something on his mind._

My stomach felt like ice. What had he seen? Though he'd never formally studied it, he knew a lot about psychology. Perhaps he had recognized something in Bella that we had not. We didn't need a clinical diagnosis to know that Bella was depressed, of course, but what if it was something else? Something worse? What-

Like she was rummaging around in _my_ mind, Alice thought _He wants to see you first, __Edward. Alone. It will be easier if you meet him outside. Esme is so worried already._

Alice glanced at our mother. She was restless with anxiety. She wanted to comfort her family but did not know how to. To her it seemed so matter of fact—Bella and I were meant to be, and we would surmount whatever obstacles stood in our way eventually, of that she was certain. This faith she had in destiny almost surpassed the religious. _I was given a second chance_: this mantra was constant in the back of her mind. _Everyone gets a second chance. _

Wordlessly I left the house, taking a short cut that intercepted our winding driveway only once. It felt better to be moving. It felt better to be outside. The trees leered at me and the vines threatened, but here nothing closed in on me. Here the air was moist, and rich with scents—natural scents. When I had been on my own, away from Carlisle and his way of life, the best part of my day had been the twilight hours. _This is the way the world works_, I would tell myself. _There is no use fighting a rising sun. There is no use fighting the end of a day. Raging at the moon or the stars or the rain or the wind...What use is that? What use is fighting what is meant to be?_

And I'd shredded, I'd torn, I'd feasted. Relentlessly. _The natural order_, I'd tell them sometimes. Or _It is no use fighting. You brought this on yourself. You're a monster._

How ironic it was, now that _Bella's love_ was the natural order. No use fighting against it; the rising sun and the end of the day; the moon, the stars, the rain, the wind; all there was, all that mattered. How ironic that it should be the very thing I'd accused my victims of that now kept me at bay—kept me from happiness, real, true joy.

_Punishment_ jeered one part of me.

_You could still have it all_ calculated another. _Go on. Just take her._

I could see it, though I did not want to, though I tried my best not to—but once before I'd saved her life that way, by making plans, so I did that again. I thought through different scenarios.

The simplest was to evade Carlisle and Alice (which would not be difficult—I was the fastest in our family) and run to Forks. Bella was at home. So was Charlie, but what difference did that make? It'd be easier if she was in her bedroom—already sleeping, perhaps (it was late and she must be tired), but if she were downstairs, I would simply snatch her—her surprise would not be hard to suppress, and by the time she'd think of screaming, we'd be a long way away.

Here I would pause a while, to allow my family to catch up to me, just in case I could not restrain myself—in case her blood was too much to resist, and I did not stop in time.

This sent shudders through me—my weakness and my desire.

Another plan would be to wait. I could speak with Carlisle—tell him what I planned on doing. He would try to stop me, but not wholeheartedly, if he knew it was what I wanted. He'd help me. It would be the safer option, to remove my bloodlust from the equation. If there was one person I trusted with Bella, it was my father. He would not harm her.

I caught his thoughts, then—he wasn't far away and had I been concentrating I would have heard him sooner. I listened to his car approach. He was worried—no, more than that, much more than that. He was frightened and frustrated. These were foreign to Carlisle's usual way of thinking. His trust in _the right thing_ working out almost matched Esme's, probably because of their story—the way they met and fell in love. What were the odds, he'd often think, of him finding the girl who'd so intrigued him ten years before? Finding her when she most needed him—and when he most needed her?

_What are the odds_ it ran suddenly in my mind _of someone with blood like Bella's coming to Forks? What are the odds that it's only her mind you can't read? What are the odds that she's the one who conquers your heart, without even trying to?_

But what were the odds, I derided myself, that she truly loved me?

A last scenario bloomed in my mind.

I could see myself getting in my car and leaving and never coming back. Alaska, maybe, or perhaps farther inland. I could search out Victoria—it was true that I had not paid her as much attention as I had James, but I'd seen enough of her mind to know that she was a dangerous loose end. I'd find her and kill her. For Bella's sake, and for my family's. It had been my fault that their coven had fought against ours. My foolishness was the cause.

I would leave Bella behind. I would leave her to live her life away from me, or whatever it was about me that left her eyes so empty. She could move on in peace. She wouldn't have to feel guilty—but now I was being arrogant again, assuming that any of those things were related to me. The truth was I didn't really know Bella at all. Oh, I knew she was strong and stubborn and sweet and kind, generous, caring, loving, beautiful. I knew she was so clumsy she could barely walk, and that she got angry very easily—but that she forgave and never held any grudges. She put everyone else first, even to her own detriment. I knew all that. The months we'd had together...I'd lapped at it like a dying man, like I could never get enough.

But I didn't truly _know_ her. Her mind was such a private entity, and even with all our tricks—mine and Alice's and Jasper's—I'd never been able to pin her down, not really. She kept ghosting around my assumptions and expectations; no matter how tightly I'd held her, it was like I could not hold her at all. And of course it had only made me try harder...

That had been a mistake, and so selfish. I should have let her go sooner—or rather, I should never have been weak enough to give in to my selfish desires in the first place. I should have left her alone from the beginning. I should have left the moment I walked out of Biology months ago, my throat alive with a thirst so wild I could barely control it.

I wondered what that would have been like—to never have known her—and pain crackled down my sides. I gasped out loud; I couldn't help it.

_You can have her..._

"Edward?"

I could only half-look at Carlisle. He'd parked his car—the door still hung open, and I could smell the interior. The lights streamed in thick, bright beams into the darkness, although the term was relative. We could see as well during the daytime as we could in pitch blackness. The colours only looked more beautiful in the light.

"Alice said you wanted to talk to me." I kept my eyes moving between Carlisle's shoulder and the closest shrubbery.

"This isn't working, Edward." Carlisle wasn't happy that I wasn't making eye contact, so he stepped closer, into my line of vision. "Bella is—it's hard to—I struggle to understand what..." He shook his head, then put his hand on my shoulder.

"There is so much pain," he said finally. "It's out of control. Edward, I'm afraid that if it goes on like this, neither of you will make it...neither of you will be right again."

I started to speak—as a distraction...Carlisle was remembering Bella, the way her voice died in her throat midway through her sentences—and he was remembering me, or _seeing_, in reality—the way I looked now, the way my body seemed to fold in around the my heart.

"I understand why you made your decision," Carlisle interrupted. He still wondered, sometimes, whether he'd done the right thing in changing any of us, but he couldn't look at Esme and his family and honestly think of it as a mistake. "But you need to reconsider. Bella wants this. She has the choice none of us had... And you love her. Please, son." His hand tightened on my shoulder for a brief moment before he let it drop.

_I'll ask Alice to leave you alone_ he thought. _The right thing isn't always the best thing. Do you understand, Edward?_

I nodded vaguely. Carlisle sighed, got in his car and left; for a long time there was only the drip-drip of rainwater through leaves, the small hush of a breeze, and the invisible clouds shifting above. We still had a few days before the sun was due again. A few days...so much could change in the space of a few days.

And something had to change—I had regained enough of my senses to realize this. I had to leave, or Bella had to get better, or I had to take what I had no right to—but we couldn't go on like this. The next time I might not be able to restrain myself—or Bella might not reconsider the blade—there might not be enough time to stave off devastation. Something had to change.

* * *

I was one of the first students at school the next morning. Alice staying home to wait for Jasper was only part of the reason; it was more desperation than anything else. I wanted to see and speak with Bella before I made my decision. During the night I had convinced myself that stealing her away and changing her against her will was more than atrocious—it was utterly despicable, and I couldn't subject her to that. But not even this decision was all nobility: I had only managed to convince myself because I knew that, given enough time and perseverance, the odds that she would give in were in my favour. _She_ was sensitive and caring and self-sacrificing...the exact opposite of me. It was no wonder I craved her so; she completed me in every sense of the word.

_You _are_ a monster_ drawled the inner voice. I was past denying it, I just kept making desperate treaties with myself: _if she agrees, I'll dedicate my life to her happiness. I will give her everything that she deserves—much more than she will ever think of asking. I will love her and cherish her and honour her. I will serve her, if that is what she wishes_

Excitement blossomed in the pit of my stomach and venom pooled in my mouth, and a fire I didn't fully recognize made my nerve-endings prickle in anticipation. I had a hard time staying in my seat, but I cautioned myself against getting too carried away with myself. She might not even want to speak with me.

Time dragged, but soon I heard someone approaching, the rain pattering on their coat, their shoes slicking and their heart beating—and that was what gave it away, even before I realized I couldn't _hear_ anything in the way of thoughts—her heart beat. I recognized it as though it were my own, and in some ways it was. There was no use denying it. There was no use denying how central to my existence she had become.

_Bella_ I thought, and a thrill of feeling ran down my spine. My stomach was all hunger and butterflies.

She didn't notice me at first. She hung up her coat, carefully readjusting her bag around her arm, which was in a sling. That gutted me, but I was determined not to give in to the self-hatred. I would make up for every hurt and every broken promise. I would serve my life sentence joyfully. If only she would give me a chance...

She turned around to her seat. She looked different today—more rested, her eyes more secure and aware, her skin faintly flushed. Her scent hit me then, and I savoured it even though it set me on fire—the sweet, delicate, floral taste of her, her warm beating heart, her breath making the hairs on my arms stand up, even at this distance. And in that moment I couldn't even hate myself for wanting to take it all, because I _did_ want it all—selfishly, foolishly, arrogantly, but none of this changed the fact.

She lifted her eyes and that was when I knew that something was different—it was like the tide that had kept her from seeing had pulled back, and she was in her eyes again, alive and exposed, her face registering the emotions and thoughts that I had no access to. My stomach leapt with pleasure—how I longed to reach out, to touch her, to wrap myself around her. Any space between us was too much. It felt like my body would not be satisfied until it had stroked her soft skin, or swept back her silky hair. The void of these simple things felt like a crater torn through my torso.

The moment seemed very long, but in actual fact it was brief—she saw me, the tips of her hair drifting through the air at her motion, and then her facial expression changed.

Fear flashed, deep and true, in the depths of her brown eyes. Her breath hitched; her heart missed a beat. She froze for a millisecond.

_She's afraid of me_. My stomach felt hollow—like I had received a cruel, public rebuke, like it had been punched open.

_Shouldn't she be?_ jeered Red-Eyes. Her heat and her delicious, beautifully warm scent was quickly smothering every other smell in the classroom. It soaked the air; a rope of fire fastened tightly around my throat, trying to drag a predatory response from me, and a response wasn't far—it never really was.

My fists balled and my mouth tightened. Yes, she should be afraid of me. Still, even now, even after everything that had passed—every touch, every kiss...it wasn't enough to sate that side of me—it wasn't enough to keep the thirst in chains.

She dropped her eyes and slid into her seat. Her shoulders were tight and tense and her heart rate had picked up. It felt like her breathing was all I could hear, harried as it was.

_I did that._

But there was something stronger than both the thirst and the repulsion—something desperate and heedless. I grappled with it, trying to understand it, but before I could get a handle on it (or my empty, balling fists, desperate to hold her—or my flaming throat, which wanted only hers) she got up, suddenly and purposefully.

She didn't even look back as she fled the classroom, and that was undeniably what it was—she was fleeing.

One part of me wanted to follow her, to see where her invisible thoughts were taking her. Her steps and her heart were lost to the other students quickly filling up the hallways, classrooms and parking lot; her heartbeat became one with theirs.

But I remained in my seat, plotting and breathing—oblivious to the pitiful thoughts of my classmates, or the droning rain, or the pain that was picking apart every piece of my being. Because I had defined the emotion that made it hard to breath, hard to move, hard to stay still. It was fear—absolute terror.

Little plans and compromises I made...but what if something had changed that I couldn't change back? What if I had truly lost her—not to death, as I had always feared (and how foolish that fear seemed now—death was the least of my worries)-but to life?

* * *

That was the first day Bella disappeared from Alice's vision.

There are no words.

* * *

**A/N: Like I said at the beginning of the chapter, this is IMBS from Edward's POV. Chronologically it matches the first chapter of IMBS. I wrote this primarily to understand Edward's motivations for the AU I set up—him leaving Bella, but not Forks. That's why this chapter is so huge: I wanted to get it all down. I'm not sure whether I will continue with this version, but I'll leave it as 'in progress' just in case. **

**The characters all belong to Stephenie Meyer, except for Christopher and possibly 'Dr Green'. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review :)**


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